Epitaph of Twilight
by Irritus185
Summary: The World is falling into disarray. The Cursed Wave is engulfing everything. He stands there, the avatar of the Twilight Dragon, the protector of Aura. His life is over, and now it will begin anew. The Twilight is waiting. Embrace it.


A/N: Okay, here's the next fanfic I plan on devoting my time to. I was looking at Wikipedia, gazing at the various articles when I thought "What if The World was real?" That's more or less the basis for this fic. Everything is real, this is no game. I mixed the .hack games along with a few general ideas from the actual "Epitaph of Twilight" and came up with this. I hope that it isn't too bad. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as my other fics. Oh, and to plug myself, go read my BoF fic I posted just a few days ago. The style of this starts to evolve into that one as the chapter progresses and ends. In any case, I hope you enjoy this fic. I'll see you again at the author's notes.

Disclaimers: I don't own .hack. I wished I did because having a digital world all to myself would be awesome. But then I'd probably be infected by AIDA or the Twilight Bracelet. Eh, even tradeoff.

**Epitaph of Twilight  
Chapter 1: The Sun Sets  
By Irritus185**

Rays of sunlight peeked over the roof of the house, bathing the dusty ground in ever-lasting warmth. It spread farther with each passing second, until the entire area was illuminated. The Grunties bellowed peacefully as it caught them in the eye, waking them up to a brand new day. The smell of fresh dirt and hay hung in the still morning air, mixed in with the natural scent of the Grunties themselves. One clambered to its feet, softly scratching its hide on the pen's fence, ridding it of worn skin and bugs.

The morning was luxurious, starting slowly and without a care. The relaxed atmosphere unfolded around, catching each of the Grunties pleasantly. Their home was in a large barn, their pens side by side, three in a row, six total. Above them laid the rafters where the hay was kept, a standard food to keep them satisfied and healthy without causing them to evolve. It was best to keep them in the same form for as long as possible, as many people had different preferences when it came to them. They were treated kindly by their caretakers, and especially adored the young boy that devoted so much time to them. Their ears perked up, anticipating his arrival.

The soft padding of leather shoes on the ground. The tinkling of a metal link against another. A deep breath that inhaled the fresh morning air. A smile on his face. He had arrived.

The boy stood there at the entrance. His aqua-green hair was tousled from his recent awakening; it bounced a bit when he tapped his foot. His deep blue eyes were shining brilliant, reflecting both the sun and an internal mirth. His hands were heavily calloused from years of menial labor, his arms slender but dense with muscles. A flush adorned his soft cheeks, baby fat rounding them out. His small nose made him look even more innocent, but the few wrinkles under his eyes attested to a different age.

The boy pushed up the course fabric of his sleeves, and hitched up the baggy overalls that pooled around his ankles. He pulled at the leather gloves to fit each finger inside. He rubbed his nose idly and smiled. "Good morning, everyone."

The Grunties bellowed in respond, a few in the boy's own language.

"Good morning, Kite! Oink!"

One voice in particular caught his attention. It was shrill and joyous, waiting to be pampered and loved. "Good morning, daddy! Oink!"

Kite Halbdunkel smiled again, much more softly this time. He walked into the barn, petting the heads of the Grunties that he passed. They pushed against him, the feeling of his gentle touch causing a calming effect. He moved to the corner of the barn, dust twirling as his feet as they kicked it up. There laid a separate pen, much smaller than the rest. In it a very young Grunty stood on its hind legs, its round head barely able to peek over one of the fences horizontal bars. It oinked impatiently, its front legs kicking at the fence.

Kite stopped in front of the pen and bent down on a knee, looking the small animal in the eye. It gazed at him innocently, its eyes shimmering with the purity only a baby animal could have. It opened its mouth. "Daddy, I'm hungry! Oink! Gimme something to eat! Oink!"

Kite tilted his head and blinked. He said nothing for a moment, just looking at the Grunty. Then, he burst out laughing. His tone was crisp and clear, the tinkling of a bell that tip-toed on the edge of a low bass. He rubbed the Grunty's head affectionately. "Okay, okay, I get it." He pulled a White Cherry from his overall's pocket, the pinkish tint contrasting the orange lines that formed the picture of a face on its double fruits. "Here you go, Sonne," Kite said as he fed the food to him. Sonne grunted happily as he munched on the fruit.

Kite had taken a liking to the young thing when he first found him. Sonne's mother had gone through a very trying birth, and unfortunately did not survive shortly after he was delivered. Kite didn't know what to do with the small sticky bundle in his arms, Sonne's eyes still clamped shut and bleating pitifully for his mother. Kite could only see a new existence brought into The World to only be cruelly extinguished. He took it upon himself to watch after the baby Grunty, and somewhere along the way had found himself deeply attached to it.

Luckily his parents found it a good thing he had a Grunty of his own, as it meant that he would be learning the tools of the trade as Sonne grew up. Their Grunty farm was well known in the city of Mac Anu, and most orders of raising and breeding the animals was left to them. Kite had simply learned what to do at an earlier age and at a quicker rate. In the long run it worked out for everyone involved; Sonne had an owner, and Kite had a valuable pet and partner.

Sonne was still in his early stages of development, so it was unknown as to what type of Grunty he would grow into. Kite wondered what he would be like – a Noble Grunty, an Iron, a Snake? Should he direct the way he evolved? He had the experience and the knowledge. Kite shook his head. No, he would just let it be. Not knowing how Sonne would grow was half the fun.

Kite paid a bit more extra attention to Sonne before starting with his chores. He climbed the wooden ladder that led to the rafter and began to shovel hay down from there. Clumps fell into each of the pens where the Grunties stationed there had their morning meals. Afterwards, he collected the cleaning tools from the shed and began the arduous task of cleaning the Grunties' hides. It was painstaking work, as dirt and grime from them rolling around was ground into their skin, and he had to scrub extra hard with the brushes to make sure every last bit of filth was removed. When he was done their coats had a beautiful sheen to them, and they bellowed in appreciation.

Kite took a cloth from his overalls and wiped his face with it. The first few chores were done; now it was time for the more strenuous ones. He opened up all the pens and led the Grunties out of the barn off into the designated pasture. His father was already there, chewing on a blade of grass.

"Morning, Kite," Axil grinned. His weathered face was slightly tanned and wrinked from age. His eyes gleamed with an energy that matched his son's. "Nice to see you working so hard so early in the morning. It does your father proud to see you putting so much effort into the family business."

"Well, I have to if I ever want to take over when you retire." He suddenly grinned jovially. "Not that it seems like you haven't already."

Axil blinked and then began to laugh uproariously, his deep voice saturating the air. "Good, good!" His heavily muscled arm slammed into his son's back, nearly toppling the poor boy over. He repeated the motion as he spoke. "It's good that you have so much energy to provoke your father like that! You'll need it to do your job. But still…" He looked away and stared into the sky, the colors growing lighter as the sun reached closer to its zenith. "You remind me of when I was a youngster, saying the same things to my father…"

Kite regained his balance and sighed at the far-away expression in his father's eyes. At times the man was so down-to-earth and yet at others could only be described as a starry-eyed dreamer. "Yes, yes. Well, if you have so much energy than can you help me?"

"What are you talking about?" Axil slammed his hands onto Kite's shoulders. "I'm just an old man! You're just coming into your prime! Use that youthful spirit and put it to good use!" He turned around and began walking back to the house. "Your mother is making breakfast for you. Make sure to finish cleaning out the barn before coming to eat. See ya!" He waved a hand, laughing again in a loud tone.

Kite's shoulder sagged in defeat. There was no point in fighting his father when the man set his mind on something. He was just like Axil in the regard. Kite set his face and re-rolled up the sleeves that had fallen down. Checking to see if the gate to the pasture was properly locked, he set off back to the barn. Grabbing a shovel and shoving on a pair of heavy wading boots, he shifted his way into the murk that was the pens.

After a couple hours of hard, smelly work, Kite finally finished. He wiped his sweating brow with the gloves, smearing the dirt and filth which had collected on it. He walked out of the barn, immediately having to shield his eyes. The sun had raised a considerable amount since and it was well into mid-morning. He made his way to the spigot, pumping it a few times, clear water spurting out into the basin. He cupped the water and brought it to his face, vigorously scrubbing away the filth and grime. He tilted his neck, wiping his face with the towel hanging on the spigot's frame. He rubbed his neck and then finished washing his hands.

Kite walked up to his house, depositing the boots coated with muck on the side before trekking up the wooden stairs. He opened the door, the hinges squeaking for oil. His family turned to greet him, Axil with a piece of toast stuck in his mouth. His mother wiped her hands on her apron and smiled. "Good morning, dear."

"Morning, mom." Kite removed his boots and placed them in the corner of the kitchen to his mother's approval.

Melony looked quite young for a mother of a fourteen-year-old boy. Her skin was still quite youthful and he body hadn't begun to sag at all. Her slender frame was well hidden underneath the simple dress that she wore, and she made no point to accentuate her feminine charms. She was content enough to know that her husband still looked at her with a knowing gaze, something that her young son failed to notice as he sat down at the table and began to scarf down his food. She placed down a cup of coffee at his place which he gratefully accepted, the warmth spreading to his hands.

"It looks like you worked hard this morning," she mused gently.

"Uh-huh." Kite sipped at the coffee, the bitter taste making his eyes narrow. It woke him up, though, and relieved some of the strain he was carrying in his body. "It's surprising how dirty those pens get after a day or so."

"Not so much," she responded. "If you remember me telling you I did used to clean out those pens all by myself long before you were born." She remembered it clearly – her working knee-deep in the barn, shoveling out the pens while her father's workers whooped and made catcalls at her during their breaks. She also clearly remembered Kite's father making suggestive comments and leering unashamedly right before she bashed the same shovel upside his head. She pursed her lips and glared at Axil. Almost as though he knew what she was trying to say, he averted his eyes and got up from the table, plucking an extra piece of jerky from it.

"Well…I've got to get going. Have to make sure that the Grunties are doing okay." He made a quick retreat, the door slamming behind him

Kite chuckled softly at Axil's not-so-surreptitious retreat. He glanced at his mother, who was still glaring at the door like his father was still there. She then sighed in exasperation and sat down to eat as well making a few comments at Kite to be more polite while eating every so often. As he slowed, finishing his meal, Melony opened her mouth, trying to begin a conversation. Kite paid attention.

"Your birthday's coming up in a few days," she began.

Kite nodded. "Yup, going to be fourteen."

"It's an important day in a man's life."

"Not just a man's, mom."

"Of course, dear." She pursed her lips again, wondering how to breach the subject. She knew Kite wouldn't take offense even if she cut right to it but she didn't want to be too blunt. A touch of delicacy was always wanted in any matter of discourse. "Kite, are you sure you want to go through with this? Is it really something you have to do?"

"Mom…" Kite looked down at the table, his hands folded. He knew what she was talking about. A person's fourteenth birthday signified the day it was legal for them to become an adventurer. They were considered adults and thus responsible enough to travel outside of the city to places full of adventure in search of glorious treasures. At least that was the romanticized version. Kite knew the dangers of being an adventurer. Strong monsters abounded everywhere outside of the root towns and it wasn't uncommon for many people to die young. He personally knew many of the people who had; clients who had asked for his assistance while raising their Grunties. "But, mom, still…"

"Ahh, don't worry about the boy too much, Mel." They turned to see Axil leaning against the door frame, the sun shining in behind him, creating silhouettes on the kitchen floor.

"Weren't you supposed to be checking on the Grunties?" Melony said with a huff.

"Aw, no need to worry about them. They're having a good ol' time just talking amongst themselves, and we don't have any clients planning on coming over today, so don't try to pull that on me either." He grimaced for a moment. "I've got something to say about Kite, too." Axil stood up straight, stamped a foot on the ground, and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"He's not a baby anymore. And besides, it's not like he doesn't know what he's getting into. He's been training ever since he was a wet-nosed brat." He sauntered in and placed his arm on top of Kite's head, using him as support. "Right, boyo?"

"Aw, dad…" Kite swatted at the older man, trying to dislodge him.

"Hahaha, see? He's so full of life, let him live it."

"But, Axil…" Melony tried to protest.

"Mel, a person only gets one chance like this in their life. Let our son live it." Axil ruffled his son's head fondly, his eyes crinkled with pride. "He doesn't have to live up to anyone's expectations but his own, nor does he have to take shit from anyone, right?" He winked cheekily. "A person lives their life by their own rules, but they're not so stupid as to forget where they come from or where they're going. Kite's only going to be away for a little while, why not just release your hold on him just for this bit?"

"Dad…" Kite's face went through a myriad of emotions before settling on determined. "Right!" he nodded. He turned away from his father to look at his mother. "Mom, don't worry. I just want get out of Mac Anu and have fun for a little bit. After that happens, I'll come back and take over the farm. You can count on it. Besides, it's not like I'm going to try and become some famous adventurer."

His mother's worried expression did not deter from her face. "I just want you to be careful."

"Don't worry about that, mom. I'll be as careful as I can be. I'll have Orca helping me as well. He promised to take me out on my first adventure to show me the ropes."

At the mention of their old neighbor, Melony perked up and looked at Kite. "How is Orca doing, anyway?"

"Probably on a big adventure with a big party." Kite slumped down and leaned his elbow on the table. "After the One Sin incident he became a veritable hero. Orca of the Azure Sea…" His eyes became glossy. "It's amazing how strong he is." Kite sighed. "He even earned the title of a Descendant of Fianna. He's really gotten strong…"

The One Sin incident was well known for being one of the greater monster attacks on the root towns. A spectrum dragon, a rare magical entity created from where large amounts of magical energy concentrated on a single area, had been wreaking havoc and killing many people without any sign of stopping. None had been able to defeat it as its thick hide repelled all forms of attack, both physical and magical. Orca had somehow managed to defeat the dragon along with the help of his famous partner, another Descendant of Fianna – Balmung of the Azure Sky. It was unknown as to exactly what happened but the two finally defeated the creature, ending its reign of destruction. The pair became known everywhere after that. Kite found it funny that his neighbor from childhood had grown into such a strong and righteous individual. He would never be able to claim the mantle of "hero."

Axil looked at his son, who was slumping forward with every passing second. He broke the melancholic mood by slapping Kite in the back of his head. Kite glared at him in anger and confusion, Melony in just confusion, as to why Axil had just hit him. Axil grinned deviously. "Come on, get off your ass! If you don't practice, your skills will get rusty."

Kite closed his mouth. "Right." He got up from the table and walked upstairs, coming back down shortly afterward with twin wooden swords held in his hands. He glanced at both his parents and smiled before walking out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Axil made his way over to his wife and looped an arm around her shoulders. "He's really one hell of a kid, ain't he?"

"Yes," she agreed. "He is."

The sun poured in through the windows, outlining their figures. The darkness stretched out behind them, reaching to the unlit hall. Two shadows within a world of light. Trapped by their counterparts until the blessed twilight freed them. Time would have to pass before this happened. Time would have to pass.

ETETETETET

The smack of wood against wood. The muffled thump of padding. The short breaths as his lungs filled up and released. The sounds floated across the air. The impact shook the post, jostling it from its imbedded base. Sweat sheen glistened on his face.

He twisted away and backhanded, the short wooden sword impacting lightly with the tall wooden post. With a minimal amount of effort, he flicked his wrist and spun, hitting the post with a wide slash. Kite continued the assault, alternating between horizontal and vertical slashes and short lunges. Each movement was performed with a natural grace, a dance that flowed through his body. Kite ended by pivoting on his leg and spinning tightly, the centrifugal force increasing his speed. He lashed out, the blade cutting into the post at a point which would have been neck-level had it been human. The force was so great that the post was pulled out from the ground and thrown a few feet away. Dust was blown up from where it landed.

Kite picked up the post from where it lay, setting it back into the hole. He shoved with a bit more effort to make sure that it was firmly planted. His hand rose up and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun had traveled even more through the clear, blue sky. It was already in the early afternoon.

His brain twitched. Danger. Kite twisted and snapped up the blade he had in his hand. The sound of two objects hitting each other. He bent his knees as the pressure pushed him back, trying to keep his balance. Kite looked up. Two eyes of a wild, feral nature stared back at him.

Axil grinned, showing rows of strong, slightly stained teeth. He was holding up a wooden staff as large as himself, both hands firmly grasping the end. The sun was behind him, giving his body a halo effect. Kite narrowed his eyes so that he could see better. Axil stepped back, lowering the staff so that it was parallel to the ground. His face was slightly flushed, his lines pulled in excitement.

"Good thing that you blocked that. It would have sent you tumbling to the ground faster than Sonne eating our entire supply of Grunty Food."

Kite grimaced. "And yet you still came at me full force?"

He grinned dangerously. "No one's going to go easy on you. And I didn't go full force. If I did, your sword would have snapped clean in half."

Kite's eyes flickered to the blue square located on his father's left cheek. He knew that Axil wasn't bluffing when he said he pulled his strength back. Axil's days as a Heavy Blade netted him a fair amount of recognition. His frame was perfect for it as well – his torso stocky and his arms and legs like oak stumps. Kite had once tried to lift Axil's old broadsword one day, to see what it was like. He could barely even lift the hilt from the ground.

Axil could hold it up with one hand.

His father was strong, and he put that strength into everything he did. And not for the first time was this awesome show of force now being directed solely at him. Kite involuntarily swallowed, instinctively feeling the danger that radiated off the older man. Axil would not pull any more punches with him; the first one was just a warning shot.

Axil shouldered the staff, shifting his balance slightly towards the front. "Now, I think it's time you spar a little with your old man." His spine bent the tiniest bit, his chin tilted upward. He lifted the substitute sword. It was heavy and the right length, but it was still a long way from a real sword. Kite would have to learn the fear of facing one from someone else. Axil was not the one to teach him the lesson. He grabbed the end with his other hand and slashed it down and to the side, the point now at diagonal horizontal to him. His eyes grew colder, his smile sunk into a thin neutral line. His stance was ready.

Kite said nothing. He picked up the other twin sword lying by his feet and stood, setting his feet firmly apart, his right a few inches in front of the left. He brought his arms up and crossed them at the chest, the tips of the blades facing outward. Kite stared straight ahead, trying to rid himself of the nagging sense of fear in the back of his mind.

Neither of the fighters did anything, just stared at each other. The breeze pushed by, tumbling the loose dirt around. Kite anxiously licked his lips. He saw his father blink.

He moved.

One foot in front of the other. Running. A foot into the ground, body contracting, knee bending. Kite shot up, flicking his wrist so that blade smashed Axil in the chin. He dodged, stepping back. Kite followed by slashing at his open waist. The staff was there, blocking, sliding the blade up its length. As it slid the staff followed, ready to catch Kite square in the chest. He took the opportunity to backspin, the tip plunging into Axil's back.

Axil disappeared.

Twisting. Turning. His body bending and contorting as the staff swept into an arc. Kite had to raise both swords so that it didn't hit him in the head. His arms ached from the impact. They dropped as he jumped backwards, the staff aimed for the top of his head. It brushed his forehead, smashing into the ground, the tip splintering and fraying. Chance.

Kite stamped down, catching the staff under his foot. It splintered some more. He moved forward using it as a step. He brought back his arm, ready to slash at Axil. The man grinned.

Muscles rippling as tendons and ligaments contracted. The staff lifted from the ground as Kite was still on it. He lost his balance and slipped. The staff almost caught him. He pushed at the last second and somersaulted off to Axil's side, falling back into a crouching position. He brought the twin blades back to primary stance. He thought again. Flipping the sword, he inverted it, creating an L-shape with them.

Secondary stance.

Axil allowed his the corner of his lips to curl up. It was a simple move but still effective. He swung the staff in a wide arc and brought it up, the tip facing the heavens. He couldn't disappoint his son could he? This time, he took the initiative, clearing the distance between them in a second. Kite was shocked, suddenly finding himself on the defensive.

The battle continued, Kite parrying each blow that Axil rained down upon him. He could never compete when it came to sheer power, but the boy was a little more agile, and his speed was increasing as each moment passed. However, his stamina was still lacking, and Kite soon found his arms feeling heavy, the fight taking its toll as acids built up in his muscles. His fingers began to cramp, and he was too slow when Axil swept upwardly at him, knocking the sword out of his left hand.

Since his fingers had lost most of their flexibility, they stung from the weapon being forcibly ejected from his hand. He dived passed as Axil followed through with the swing. Hopefully, he could buy some time to see what he could do.

Axil turned around and didn't move. He just looked at Kite, simply observing. He already realized that the battle was over. Kite had just lost one of his weapons and the boy was not used enough to real fights to be a considerable challenge.

Kite was bright, though; that was a quality of his that he would surely benefit from. While speed, strength, and defense were needed qualities in any fighter, intelligence was needed just as much, even more if the fighting style required it. Without any sort of tactics, a fighter was swinging around nothing more than a lump of metal. Instinct was important also, he thought as he noticed the change in Kite's facial expression. Kite had plenty of that as well. The boy would make a fine adventurer.

Kite shot forward. He ran straight at Axil, like a boar to the slaughter. His defenses were wide open; he wasn't even trying to defend himself. Kite was charging, focused solely and intensely on offense. Axil was disappointed. It was a rookie mistake, to abandon all maneuvers and simply attack. Axil brought the staff done to catch Kite on the moment he crossed into his range.

Motion. A breath of wind. Hairs falling down. Twisting, the arm springing upward. Pivoting on a foot, bouncing, full of rubber. Staff pounding the dirt. A flushed face full of excitement. All of his force, all of his power. Legs expending all energy. Aiming for the temple. Exhilaration. Victory. Triumph. A reprieve. Seconds passed. The World turned.

Axil's elbow lodged itself in Kite's chest. The boy was knocked out of mid air and tumbled to the ground. He rolled for a few feet before stopping. His breaths came out ragged and he coughed several times as he strained to breathe properly. He flipped onto his back, staring at the empty sky. His vision was filled with a multitude of colorful dots, spinning haphazardly as the sky followed. Kite closed them.

When he opened them again, he saw Axil bent over, smiling at him. His eyes were full of pride, his mouth slightly quirked. "That was a good last move."

Kite groaned and threw a hand over his face. "Too bad it didn't work." He thought that with the inertia given by rebounding off the ground would give him enough speed to attack his father before Axil brought the staff back up. What he hadn't taken into account was his father abandoning the weapon to use his bare hands for a counterattack. Kite still found it slightly hard to breathe, and his ribs were very sore.

"But it was pretty unpredictable. You almost had me fooled when you charged me. That's an important thing to remember when in battle – never let your opponent figure out what you're doing." The sun shined from behind him. Kite had a feeling of déjà vu. Axil grinned at his son's confused-looking face. "You did well for a beginner with few real battle experiences."

"Think I'll ever get any better?"

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. Just remember that in a real battle, there are no second chances and no one to congratulate you if you lose. Once it happens, everything that you know and are is gone." He extended his arm towards Kite, his calloused palms and fingertips worn and thick.

A shadow passed overhead. Kite's eyes flashed. The clouds hid the sun from view, and blanketed the land. The temperature dropped faintly. His arms grew goosebumps. The hand called for him. Kite shook his head.

He grabbed it.

ETETETETET

"Focus on the card. Look past its surface to the threads of causality that run through. Reach at it; pluck it gently. Vibrate fate with your power, and claim a part of it as your own."

The dark room had a cool breeze blowing through it. The candles flickered, ranging in different heights, the wax melting and collecting in their stands, hardening into grotesque shapes. The shades were drawn, the light from outside opaque and tinted a deep purple. It filtered in, tainting the rest with its dank color. Incense flowed through the room, becoming visible as it passed the candles. Wispy smoke that rose and danced and twirled through the air as its current led it along. Shelves lined the room, filled with various objects.

A human skull overflowing with some kind of mucous. A talisman that spilt into four different parts, each ending with a demonic figurine. A china doll with a missing eye, her right arm cracked, her hair falling out in clumps. Bird cages that were empty. Music boxes that played no songs. Books whose pages were crusty and yellow with age, the print fading away. They overflowed, stuffed into small spaces, shoved anywhere room could be found.

The woman sat there, her black robe flowing, the sleeves draping down. Her ruby lipstick starkly contrasted her alabaster skin. Her eyes were hidden from view by the cowl that drooped over the top half of her face. Her long fingers arched, the nails pressing gently into the table, creating tiny indentations. She leaned forward, watching the young boy in front of her. His face was tightened in concentration, his eyes closed and cheeks drawn in. She gently counseled him, her voice soothing and fluid, like a river through the forest.

Kite sat in the chair, his mind empty, searching. His fingers touched the Tarot card, probing into its mystical energies. It was strands of magic, a music that only he could play or hear. He listened and touched. They danced and hummed and slowly converged, forming an image. It began slowly but then sped up, until the entire world spun into focus, a glorious picture appearing.

empty none the void eternity waiting hoping knowing he was there wishing for his presence looking for his affection coldness to warmth confusion hate darkness

His mind connected, he had to free himself of all worries except the tapestry that wove itself in front of him. Several threads ran off into the distance, the void consuming them; several intertwined and merged into his hands. He tugged gently. They unraveled and spread apart. Kite tugged again and they leapt into the air, winding together, creating.

naivety resonating universe affection power and the core helplessness the end a mass of chars and cinders heavenly lights dreams

A strand from the tapestry separated itself. It glowed, twirling and undulating like a snake on the surface of a lake. The thread moved across his vision and then barely touched the mass of threads that stretched out from his fingers. Warmth. A pure light. The threads converged on each other, devouring the other, engulfing, swallowing their own ends. They writhed, a mass of power and magic. Lines of fate that spread out through the cosmos, waiting to be controlled, to alter the very essence of the universe

The ball was sucked into his hand. He could feel it travel into him, up his arm, and into his heart. Kite breathed deeply. His eyes opened slowly. He took the Tarot card and snapped it up, the picture of the sun shining its light over two youths facing the woman. The words left his mouth, floating on mystical lyrics.

"Numeral Twenty! Source of life, burn out your eyes! The Sun!"

An orb of light appeared above the table. It spun and rotated, growing larger and more radiant. Sudden it exploded, illuminating the room with blinding light. Kite was unaffected, the chanter of the spell. The woman had to cover her eyes, bringing an arm in front of them, her pale skin reflecting the light a bit. When the incandescence disappeared and the room returned to its original dark state, Kite sighed heavily. He was drained from making another contract with the Tarot cards. Diving into them and finding the threads of causality that powered the cards was difficult and required much concentration. He was so glad he had gone through the ritual without any complications. Now another powerful tool was at his command.

"Very good, Kite. You have finally obtained The Sun."

The woman lowered her arm, her full lips curled up in a sultry smile. A long time had passed since the boy had come to learn the usage of the Tarot cards under her, the resident Tarot User in Mac Anu, and she was pleased to see how quickly he had taken to it. Kite was eager to learn and put considerable work into accomplishing his tasks. It was a joy to find someone so adept at Tarot Usage seeking out the mystical art all on his own. But now, the time had come; he had surpassed the last obstacle that she could place in front of him.

"Thank you, Madame." Kite bowed his head in respect.

Madame's lips curled up even further, her high cheekbones easily achieving the task. "I'm proud of you Kite. Now you have all of the Minor Tarots. Any of the Major ones, you will have to learn from another teacher."

"I understand. This will help me a great deal in my travels."

"Come, come, Kite. You don't have to be so formal with me." He opened his mouth to disagree but she stopped him by lightly placing her fingertips on his chin. With that, she closed his jaws, a playful gaze escaping from her hood. Kite blushed, unable to hide his embarrassment from such a beautiful woman touching him in such an intimate way. Madame giggled at his expression. "Really now….After all this time and you still don't see me as a friend?"

"But you're my master at Fate Wea-"

"I'm not your master anymore," she corrected him. "I stopped when you finished forming a contract with your final Tarot card."

Kite said nothing and looked down at the table, his eyes locked on his clasped, fidgeting hands. He sighed again, the tension running from his body. He looked up again, a sheepish grin on his face, and scratched his cheek. "Yeah, I guess I'm not the kid that always screwed up anymore, huh?"

"No, not at all." Madame giggled, holding a hand to muffle the noise. She remembered his first attempts at making contracts, the cards rejecting and turning their effects back onto him. The day he attempted The Hanged Man left the boy paralyzed all day. It was a rather mirthful incident. She calmed down, and cleared her throat. "Kite, why exactly did you come to me to learn Fate Weaving? It is not the most popular or easily learned of skills."

Fate Weaving was a type of magic that had degenerated since the early days of The World. It was a branch of Tarot Usage, a practice that used Tarot cards to shape magic rather than using spells and carefully ordained magic staffs and rods. It was spilt into two styles, passive and active. Passive Tarot Users were called Tarot Readers. They gleamed into the future by using the cards as a mirror, reflecting the threads of causality into their mind and seeing where they led to. It was a difficult job, as divination was not a precise magical institution, and many people had degraded it to simple fortune telling. However, it was a powerful way of using magic, and those that mastered often found themselves on the receiving end of vast amounts of information.

The active style users were called Fate Weavers. They made contact with the threads of causality, bending them to their own will. This literally reshaped the universe to their making but only in minor details. It simply caused an event that would lead the intended target on the way to the result that the card described. Sometimes it was immediate, sometimes it took a little longer. It all depended on the level of the Weaver and how powerful the intended casting was.

The threads of causality were very temperamental, though, and it was tough for most Fate Weavers to make contracts with them. They had to be deemed as to having enough energy and conviction not to fall victim to the sense of power that ran through them. There was also the problem of having to carry all the various cards around. When in a pinch, it was sometimes difficult to retrieve the needed card without putting one's self in danger. Then there was the dual level of Fate Weaving. The Minor Tarots were the most basic level of cards, easily gained by anyone. The Major Tarots were a different story, and it was rare for anyone to have ever even met someone that owned them.

Kite had gained the use of the Minor Tarots. This meant that he was now on par with most Fate Weavers. The rest was up to how well he cultivated the use of the Tarots as well as how much he devoted to concentration, a major component of Tarot Usage. Without a clear mind, he was hanging onto nothing more than a flimsy piece of paper.

He blinked. "I guess it's because it was a lesser desired form of magic. It's mostly spells that cause a variety of effects so it'll be helpful in any kind of situation. Just because I can't blow something up with a few words doesn't mean it's not of any use." Madame was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. Kite didn't notice the shift in her emotions as he continued. "The other reason was because it took a lot of effort to learn. Perseverance is a trait that's always wanted, whether it's in adventuring or my home back at the farm. Either way, it'll make it easier for me to get jobs done when I believe that a little more work is all I'll need." His face grew more relaxed as he spoke, his honest nature shining through.

Madame remained silent after he finished speaking. Kite was of a rare breed of people. Even through all the trials and hardships that were common in learning Fate Weaving, he had maintained a positive attitude. Fate Weaving was difficult by all standards of magic, but Kite had done so because of the difficulty it entailed. She sighed. Such an interesting boy was leaving her; it made her a bit sad. She smiled to hide her emotions and stood up. Kite watched in curiosity as Madame walked over to the overflowing shelves and took out a small mahogany box that was squeezed between a stuffed raven and a bag of clear stones. She placed it on the table, and opened it, the contents facing Kite.

Inside was a neatly stacked deck of Tarot cards. Madame smiled at him. "It is customary for the apprentice to choose a core card for their deck when they complete their apprenticeship." She spread them in a fan on the table, the back facing upward. "Pick one of them. It will foretell what kind of person you will be, and the path you will take."

Kite's hand hovered over the cards. He hesitated, unsure of which to go for. It was an important deviation that his life would take, so he had to choose carefully. His brain twitched; he felt his fingers pulled downwards, influenced by some outward force. Kite's fingers touched the card. They slid slowly to the edge and flipped it over.

A skeleton striding over a sea of corpses, wielding a scythe dripping with blood. Its smiling skull entranced him, drawing him in. Its hollow eyes beckoned for him, calling. They swirled, a dirge of colors swimming in darkness. Kite felt himself falling, falling into the void.

He…

"Death. The gateway to infinity. A symbol of change. The ending of one life and the beginning of another." Madame's words broke Kite from his trance. He gazed at her, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Her mouth had turned into a frown. "Death is a potent card, Kite. It can mean the end of all things, but it can also mean rebirth for a new day. It all exists within the confines of time, as death can be eternal or simply the step for a new phase in life." She gathered the rest of the cards up and deposited them back in the box, returning it back to its original position on the shelves. She then picked up the Death card and put it into Kite's hands. "Be careful, Kite. Life is never easy; it is painful, sad, an existence so torturous that you may wish for the very card that guides you. But remember, the night doesn't last forever. Daybreak is always waiting just around the corner. Have patience, and walk to tomorrow."

The candle flickered for a moment. Its flame moved in and out of existence, a twilight that was neither real nor fake. Kite shivered as a chill crawled down his spine. It was so cold…

"Yes, Madame."

ETETETETETET

Leather shoes that padded on the floor. Dark green pants that were held up by a double-buckled belt. The white shirt covered his torso and arms perfectly, supplemented by the green tunic that wound around his chest. Gloves fit his hands, the leather loosening as he flexed his fingers to feel it out. A hat rested on his head, his family's crest imprinted on the front. Kite intensely looked at his outfit, scoping out each and every inch as his parents watched him glow in childish awe.

"This looks great!" he burst out before clamping his mouth shut. He realized that where he was right now was not the place to act so immaturely. It was where he was going to be ordained as an adventurer, the gate to his adulthood.

The Marker looked at the young boy, her wrinkled face dispassionate. She had been marking the young souls that were to become adventurers for a long time, and she would continue to do so until another Marker was appointed. This was not something that unusual to her, effervescent youths bursting at the seams to become adventurers. Still, it was always a pleasant sight to behold anyway. She spoke, her voice carrying a strength that belied her age.

"Are you ready to proceed?"

Kite took one last look at his parents. His father's face was full of admiration; his mother's a mix of sadness and expectation. He then set his face into determined expression and stepped in front of the Marker.

It was then that the realization of the whole situation began to weigh on him. It was finally happening. He was finally becoming an adventurer. The days that he had been kept safe in his home were now over. The innocence that he kept from not knowing about The World outside of the root town was about to be wiped out. He was a man now. But would be able to do what he set out to do? Would he able to bring himself to the level of those that braved monsters and dungeons every day? Could he do it? Did he have the determination?

He shook his head. No. He would not start doubting himself now. Not when he had put so much time and effort and hopes into what could ultimately become the most memorable years of his life. He saw the Marker staring at him, waiting for him to answer her question. Kite swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and recited the oath that he had repeated day after day to memorize.

"I, Kite Halbdunkel, do pledge myself to be a worthy adventurer, one who will take sword and shield and magic to go forth into The World and find the path that is destined for me. I will face the hardships that threaten to break me, bask in the glories that await me, and remember the lives of those that passed before me. With these beliefs as my contract, I swear that I will never forget who I am or who I will be. I, Kite Halbdunkel, do pledge this."

Kite watched as The Marker gave no reaction. He feared that something in his pledge was wrong as he expected her to do something. When she nodded her approval, Kite released the stale breath he had been keeping held up in his mouth. The Marker mentally took tab of this action but did nothing to reprimand him. Instead she removed her hands from inside her robe and held them out in front of her, the fingers clasped together.

"What is the class that you wished to be marked with?"

"I wish to be a Twin Blade, to move as quickly as the wind, to let my blades become an extension of my body, and to rule as master of the flowing strikes."

"Then come forth, child, and allow this Marker to bestow upon you the Wave Symbol."

Kite leaned forth, his eyes closed, his lips trembling. The old crone extended her crackling hands and placed her on Kite's cheeks. She began to chant. Ancient words tumbled from out of her mouth, shaping the magic that pervaded the land and crossed even through the Chaos Shifts. She funneled the power from the Gates, channeling them into her fingertips, using herself as a medium for the magic to transfer in Kite. He could feel her fingers sinking into his cheeks; deeper and deeper. They kept sinking, farther than was physically possible. Kite tried to open his eyes but someone unknown entity prevented him, freezing his entire body, making him feel the appendixes that invaded him.

They burned him, they were burning his face! A pain like no other erupted inside of Kite, like his very soul was being ripped apart and rearranged. Something was being implanted into his essence, something was giving birth inside of him. He could feel it flourish, spreading throughout his limbs. It balanced out the pain, a soothing and comforting sensation that cleansed his being. He could feel the fingers more clearly now; they were moving across his cheeks. They began at his jaw and advanced up his face towards his nose before doubling back to his ear. They removed themselves momentarily before sinking again in the space between the angles. Then they removed themselves again, and Kite found that he could open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a reflection of his face in a mirror.

Two triangles without the bottoms were placed upon each cheek, a dot inside the space they created. His Wave Symbol; his mark of adulthood.

The Wave Symbols were necessary if one wanted to travel out of a root town or between them. After the Cataclysmic Shift, The World was shattered into numerous pieces, like the shards of a mirror. People found themselves caught on planes of existence that had no end; they simply went on forever, caught in an eternal loop. It was only thanks to the lost technology of the Chaos Gates that people were able to transfer to places outside of their respective root towns. This privilege was reserved only for adventurers that were brave enough, as the Wave Symbol gained by becoming one was the only thing known to resonate with the power of the Gates. The Gates connected to everywhere, and thus people could meet each other thanks to the Gates. The Wave Symbols were the key to this.

Kite traced the tattoos on his face. They gave no resistance and felt no different texturally than the rest of his skin. They were now a part of him, a natural facet of his life.

Breach. Rite of passage. Maturity. Bonds that are born. Amazement mixed with delight. Anticipation and anxiety. Wondering what would happen next. Unknown. The future – it was waiting.

Kite turned around to greet his parents as an adult. His eyes opened in surprise and joy.

Sky blue boots that reached up to his knees, matching the iron guards that hung on his left shoulder and waist. His tanned skin had white lines trailing all over it, his upper half steeped in a deep green that matched Kite's outfit. His muscled form stood there, arms and legs bulging. His face was a stern visage, his eyes sharp and piercing, his mouth hard, his nose pointed. A sword was strapped on his back, the scabbard just peeking out from behind his body. It was held up by belts that encircled his neck like a collar. He stood there, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his arms crossed across his chest.

Kite opened his arms wide in welcome. "Orca!" he shouted.

The Descendent of Fianna uncrossed his arms and smiled down on the younger boy. "Hello, Kite. It has been a while since I've seen you."

"What are you doing here? I-"

"You don't need to worry about the details." Orca glanced quickly at Axil and Melony, who looked back with knowing faces. He closed the distance between them in one stride and stuck his hand out. It was marred with numerous scars and calluses, yet one could feel the warmth that poured from it. Orca smiled at him, his face kind and empowering. "I just wished to be the first one to say it to you."

Kite slowly took his hand, the larger one easily enveloping his own. He craned his neck, the Blademaster much taller than him. "Tell me what?"

His smile grew wider. "Welcome to The World."

ETETETETET

The wind felt cool on his cheeks. The grass brushing up against his boots, the trees slowly giving way as their branches shuffled back and forth. The sky was different here, numerous clouds floating lazily by. The smell was different as well – an earthy smell mixed with a certain sweetness.

Kite fingered the steel twin blades that rested on his hips. The handles curled upon each other in a wave shape, the sleek and straight edge of the blade simple yet effective. The steel hilt fit perfectly in his palms, as though they were made just for him. He was surprised that his mother of all people had picked them out for him, but, in a way, it was just like her. A variety of emotions ran through him.

Excitement. Anxiety. Nostalgia. Fear. Anticipation. Each one touched his mind, molding it in miniscule parts that changed the way The World was being seen through his eyes.

He was broken from his reverie when Orca slapped him on the back. He glanced up. Orca was waiting. "Well, what do you think of the world outside of Mac Anu?"

"It's…" Kite blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say next. "It's just so…amazing."

Orca laughed, his tone similar to Axil's in its deepness. "That's the kind of reaction you would expect from a Rank One amateur." Kite glared at him, his mouth downed into an unpleased frown. Orca made a placating motion with his hands. "But you're right. No matter how many times I venture out into The World, its structure and wonders never cease to amaze me. There are always new secrets to discover and no matter how hard you search you'll never discover everything about The World in your entire lifetime."

Kite listened as Orca finished and then said, "Then I should start now, so that I can find as much as I can, right?"

"That's the spirit of an adventurer! Come, we should make our way to the dungeon on this plane. There should be some weak monsters we can practice against." Orca walked off, and Kite quickly followed after him.

The only sound was the wind whistling through the grass. It tickled Kite's nose. He sneezed.

"Have you heard of the rumors lately that The World is breaking apart?" Orca said abruptly. Kite's face was bewildered. "People are saying that impossible things are occurring everywhere. Monsters that don't bleed or die no matter how much you cut them, planes that can't be accessed or are said to be breaking into pieces, and people that are disappearing without a trace." His eyes were solemn. "Something is changing in the world, Kite. It has me worried."

Kite gave no response.

The two soon found themselves at the entrance to the specific plane's dungeon. Kite felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach as he looked into darkness that led into the underground labyrinth. It reminded him of a gaping maw, one that waited to devour him whole and leave not a trace behind. Something was calling out to him, reaching with intangible hands and fingers, waiting to drag him into the abyss. It desired him, wanted his flesh, his blood, his essence. It wanted him, and he was going to deliver himself right into its malicious embrace.

Orca watched Kite as the younger boy visibly trembled. He did nothing, knowing that the boy would take the first step unheeded. His thoughts were answered as Kite lifted a foot and placed it on the first step down. Then another one. Then another one. Kite walked into the pitch black, his face set into a determined and grim frown. This time, it was Orca that followed him.

The dungeon was set with bricks of a dark-brown mineral. Ichor and blood seeped from the breaks between them, and puddles of water crisscrossed the ground in front of them. Kite placed a hand on the wall. It had a slimy feel to it. Even when he removed his hand the feeling did not fade, and Kite was forced to wipe it clean with his clothes. The feeling remained, faint and viscous.

Kite pulled out a torch from his kit, the oil soaked edge lighting up as he used his flint and steel to create a spark. The hallway was illuminated, the light casting strange shadows on the walls and floor with its tumescent irradiation. Kite and Orca walked forward, their feet slapping on the wet floor.

As they turned a corner, they came across a golden orb that rotated in mid-air. It was inlaid with archaic runes and script, an ancient language that had been lost to society long ago. The Magic Portal hovered in place, a rip in time and space that was the only documented anomaly that connected the dimension of human to the dimension of monsters. Unknown aberration, summoning vicious beings from another realm; Kite looked between it and Orca, indecisive apparent in his features. Orca simply stared back.

Something pulled at him. Kite touched the sphere.

A flash of light. Suction. Transfer. It stood there. Leathery skin, hooked claws and nose, extended ears. Hunched over, its mouth teaming with tiny, innumerable fangs. Clothed in only a loincloth, ragged and the smell of entrails. Babbling words from its mouth. Drooling. A carnal light in its eyes. It focused. Targeted its prey. Leapt in impatience.

Closer.

He didn't know what to do. His mind raced, hazy and unclear. He couldn't see anything but the creature advancing on him.

Closer.

What should he do? All his preparation, all his training gone in an instant.

Closer.

Thrown away in fear. Uncertainty destroying his mind.

Closer.

What was he supposed to do?

The claws shot forward, burying in the unprotected region of his eyes. Ripping through the soft sac of fluids, piercing his brain. His blood shot out, his system shut down. His body hit the floor. The wet slap of a prone sack of flesh. His torso opened, his guts rolling out. Its beak-like mouth buried in his guts, ripping them out, devouring them all. Its face covered in his blood. Its teeth stuck in his flesh. His vision showed only the ceiling, descending on him. Crushing him. His breath was gone, his limbs limp.

His brain twitched, signaling to react.

The claw shot forward, meeting steel, scraping against tempered metal. His arms swiped in both directions, his strength matching its own. He strained his arms, the goblin's stocky form beginning to overpower him. Time was for him, time spun in his place. He bent his legs, his body lowering to the ground. The goblin pushed forward, shoving its face to his – a leering grin, its breath putrid.

With a burst of energy, Kite surged ahead, shoving the goblin away. He followed through, slashing at the creature. It blocked with its arm, the blade biting in, blackish blood exuding from the wound. He repeated the action, the monster mirroring him. With both arms occupied, Kite lashed out with a kick, his leg muscles taught. The goblin caught it full-on, and was thrown back several feet. It swiftly flipped into a ready position, crouching to launch itself back.

Kite was prepared.

His hand dived into his tunic, coming back out with a Tarot card. It showed a man upside down, hanging from a rope by his leg. He flipped it up, his eyes bright. "Numeral Thirteen! Unknown life, bring forth the sacrificial lamb! The Hanged Man! "

An arc of lighting exploded from the card, striking the goblin in the torso. Sparks of electricity ran around its body, shivering as the muscles were paralyzed. The goblin's movement was immobilized, incapacitated. Kite jumped forward, the sword smoothly cleaving the goblin's head from its neck. The object rolled along the ground and came to a stop, blood soaking the floor. Kite stood there, hands on knees, wiping his mouth.

The taste of bile lingered in the back of his throat, threatening to escape. Seeing the goblin's empty eyes staring at something, the tongue hanging out of its gaping mouth, his stomach churned and broiled like the sea. He was startled when Orca patted him on the back and moved ahead without a word. Kite spit the phlegm that had collected and ran after the Blademaster, leaving the monster's corpse to rot.

They dived deeper into the dungeon, finding no other portals. The atmosphere weighed more on their shoulders with each minute passing. The place was dank, smelling of death. The walls glistened from the slime coating them. The difference between the dungeon and the plains was phenomenal. Kite found himself wishing that he was back outside. Anything was better than the darkness of this dungeon.

They came to an intersection. A flash of white. Kite held his temple as a pain shot through his skull. His eyes closed, and his lips grew thin in a grimace. His heart started to pound, louder and louder, taking up all of his senses. He tripped on an uneven part on the floor, and fell to his knees. Orca went to help him up, but was distracted when something rushed in front of them.

A young girl in shimmering white clothing. Her pale skin shined with radiance foreign to the environment. Her white hair matched her clothing, falling down to her middle back. Her gown was pinned at the neck with a silver symbol for infinity, a shawl over her shoulders. The lower half of her dress was a rainbow of colors, shifting from one to the next without pause. Her eyes, large and oval-shaped, were a clear blue, holding an infinite amount of wisdom and sadness. Her face was round and smooth, her chin and nose gently curved. She swept across the floor, her feet not touching it, her movements full of ethereal grace. She passed them, her face betraying nothing.

The hallway darkened.

A shadow of death. Black and sinister. Chunks of ebony that formed the effigy of a human being. A broken halo on its head, a grotesque parody of an angel. Its long fingers cracked ominously, wrapped around a red, thin cross the length of its entire body. Eyes of mixed karma traced its chest and limbs, spinning into a whirlpool of white and orange. Three glowing red jewels were imbedded in its head, the light creating a path as it swarmed after the girl. Its grace was natural as well. Ephemeral. Fleeting. Demonic.

They saw it chase her, hunt her down. It disappeared around the corner, a smoky existence that faded from view.

Orca's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly gaping. "What was that? It's like no monster I've ever laid eyes on before."

"Orca?"

"Come, Kite, we have to assist that girl!" Orca took off, leaving Kite kneeling on the hallway floor.

His head pounded, his heart beat faster. Kite struggled to his knees, his legs weak and without support. The Twin Blade followed after the older man, stumbling every few steps. They rushed into the room at the end of the intersection the girl and monster had gone into.

Nothing was there.

Orca examined the room. It was bare except for a few shattered vases and boxes. Even they hadn't been disturbed recently, a thick coat of dust covering them. Nothing hinted at the idea that another person had been in the room for quite some time. He put his hand to his chin, his face in pensive thought.

Kite's face was pale. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving. He felt so tired, so exhausted. He could barely keep standing. He didn't know why; why would he be feeling like without any sign or warning. He pulled himself up, determined not to let Orca see him in this state. He could hear the man mumbling to himself, catching stray words and sentences.

"…makes no sense…too powerful for here…rumors true…don't understand…"

He straightened up when Orca turned around. The man barreled past him, his pace speeding up. Kite ran after him, his legs still wobbling. The dungeon grew darker as they went further and further. Both said nothing, aware of how severe the situation had turned.

Finally they reached the end of the dungeon, meeting no other adventurers or portals or anything else. Orca's face melted into one of relief, his attitude unequivocal in its change. His shoulders lost their tension, and his hand stopped twitching every so often. Kite felt better as well, the strength returning to his legs and body.

The room was small, a large chest sitting on the other side. A large statue floated behind in an empty cylinder, its form that of a heavy-set man holding an elaborate sword in front of him, the tip pointing straight up. It was made of the same material as the dungeon walls, but the mastery put into carving the statue was much greater than the simple blocks. Orca put a hand to Kite's back and pushed him forward. When Kite looked over his shoulder, Orca smiled. "You deserve whatever is inside, Kite. You had a supreme first fight. Go on, take it."

Kite smiled in gratitude and walked up to the chest. He kneeled down and broke the rusted lock with the hilt of his sword. With a slight pause, he lifted the heavy grain of the chest's lid, and pushed it open. Inside was a single object – a Tarot card. Kite picked it up and looked it over. There seemed nothing different or special about it. He turned it over, examining the side where the picture designating its type was.

It was blank, a black rectangle.

"What did you find?" Orca asked.

"Nothing much," Kite answered. He slipped the card into his tunic and turned to face Orca. It wouldn't hurt to keep whatever he found, regardless of how useless it seemed. "Just a Tarot card."

"That's a bit odd…" Orca shrugged. "Well, this was a fairly small dungeon. You can't expect to find a rare item right at the beginning of your adventuring career."

"Uh-huh."

"Let's return to Mac Anu. I'm certain that your parents will be thrilled to hear all the tales you have to tell them." He exited the room. Kite followed.

The moment they left, the dungeon began to swim around them. The walls melted into the floor, and the ceiling began to drip pieces of itself. The blocks twisted onto themselves, sinking and falling. The hallway spilt open, revealing a sky that was a conglomeration of light and darkness, a poisoned green where the clouds became tainted and swelled with blood. They were stuck on a small expanse of land, a mutated version of the outside plane. The trees had withered and contorted, forming freakish shapes. The grass had wilted away, crumbling to dust under their feet. The dungeon rose from the ground, its structural integrity falling apart, chunks of it disintegrating. Statues of ancient and evil gods arose, their visage terrible to behold.

The two were both mesmerized and repulsed by the scene. It was as someone had inverted their whole world, turning the lush landscape into some perverted joke. Orca's hands instinctively grew tighter on his weapon, the knuckles bleaching wide as blood was pushed out. Kite's eyes flickered bath and forth, taking everything in.

Fear. Corruption. Diseased. Hatred. His mind was ablaze with thought, his synapses snapping with electricity and screaming pulses down his body and up his spine.

The air tore. A vortex opened. A shimmering passed through. She rose from beneath, walked on the air, floating down to them. Her hands opened, the palms cupped up. It materialized, a thick tome, bound in leather, its pages torn on the edge. She breathed. It crossed the air, stopping in front of Orca's face.

"Take this." Eyes crystal clear. Cheeks heavily flushed. Orca made no move to touch it. She repeated the request, more frantic this time. "Please take this. There's no time! Please!"

His hand reluctantly reached out. It touched the tome, grasping it with one hand. He brought it closer, inspecting it. The gold filigree on the cover gave shape to an odd rune – two stars revolving each other, snakes encapsulating them, suffocating their existence. "What's this?"

Her face tightened, her eyes grew sharper. "A great force," the girl said carefully, beseechingly, reverently. "The power it holds can bring forth either destruction or salvation at the whim of the user."

Recognition dawned on his face. "You're…"

The air oscillated, the ground shook. The pale phantom shook her head, her eyes bright with fear and sorrow and remorse. She fell backwards, her being falling out of existence, melting into the darkness. Her voice was soft and gentle, proclaiming a warning. "It's coming."

Behind them. The air tore again. The vortex opened, the curtain tore free. It phased through, the shadow that laid in the void. It grasped its cross and snapped it down. Its eyes glowed, its body sucked in the light.

"Get back! It'll kill you!" The Blademaster shoved the young boy back, running as fast as he could to the monster that commanded their termination.

Kite reached out a hand, trying to call to him. His temples threatened to explode. His mind was being invaded, his thoughts were being raped. His heart tried to escape through his chest, and his hands were glued to his swords.

Orca's sword slashed through the opponent, rending its leg from its body. It fell to the ground, shattering into a million fragments. The arm came next, and then the torso, the head, the other leg, and the arm. Each cracked as though they were made of clay, crumbling to nothing. He kept swinging, his sword singing a battle song, his arms and legs in flowing motion. He came back to the arm.

It was rebuilt.

The pieces were coming back together, congealing and reforming. They returned from the ground, sticking to the monster like it had never been cut at all. Orca went at it again. Each time he cut it, it pieced itself back together. His arms were growing tired, his slashes becoming sluggish.

The monster smashed him with the cross, sending him flying. He hit the ground and slid. Scales appeared in the air around him, hexagons of thin, compressed light. He was lifted, his arms and legs frozen in a spread-eagled position. The cross moved behind him, attaching itself to his back. His crucifixion had come.

Kite watched, his feet stuck to the ground. He could do nothing, his mind still in fear and shock. It was all happening too fast. This was all happening too fast! He didn't expect this! This was too much for him!

The false angel rose and outstretched his arm, the fingers upright, the palm out. Wings branched out, feathers of light. Crawling upward and over, inward and angled. Fives wings, five wishes, five deaths. The palm turned, the fingers outspread.

Ribbons shot forth, twisting and turning, impaling the forsaken Blademaster. He mouth opened in a silent scream, air failing to escape. His body shook, his colors graying. He slumped forward and fell to the ground. The dust flew up and settled back down on him.

Words fell from his lips. Words of apology, words of despair. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. I'm…sorry." The color was being sucked out, leaving him a husk. "Kite, run! Get out of here!" His demand punctuated by the demonic scales, his body rising. He exploded, shards of his essence thrown everywhere.

The book appeared. It glowed and shot upward, disappearing from view.

Kite turned. The palm was focused on him, the new source of the demon's attention. It grew brighter.

run

And brighter.

you've got run you have to run why won't you run you'll die you'll die you'll die

Wings of the sinned seraphim.

you're going to die!

The heavens fell, a spear of truth. It hit the ground. The demon broke its infernal gaze. The area shook, the air tore asunder. The abyss came. It swallowed up everything. The shadow ran, chased by the twilight. The World was ending. He was alone. His friend was wiped. He was leaving this plane.

The girl had told them.

The girl had warned them.

The girl had brought this fate on them.

He was alone.

The darkness took him.

A/N: Well, that was the first chapter. I hope that you all liked it. As you can see, the focus is going to be on Kite. While other things may be going on, the view is going to be third-person Kite. Also, this is going to be mainly an action/fantasy fic but I'll be throwing some romance in thee too. That should work out quite well, I think. This is one of the fics I'm cycling, meaning I'm going to be doing a fic for one chapter and then the next fic for one chapter and so on and so forth. This way I can devote equal time to each one without wandering off and getting distracted. The fic coming after this should be an Evangelion one called "Organization XVIII" followed by my BoF fic again. To those wondering what it might be, mix Evangelion, Kingdom Hearts, and parodies of over a dozen animes and many other spoofy things. The style is most closely related to the "Theatre of the Absurd" found in novels like "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." Well, guess I'll see you again. Please review, and remember, no flames!

_Next Chapter: Initial Corruption_


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